I Know Your Heart
by sillybegger58
Summary: One shot. John Bates did not have a pleasant childhood. Will be take after his father?


_**I'm placing this story very early in Anna's pregnancy. My head canon says John's emotional problems did not start when he was an adult. My head canon also says John knows at least some Gaelic. Thanks for the beta, Diane!**_

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Anna turned over and reached for John, and found his side of the bed empty and chilly. She waited a few minutes, and when he did not return, she put on her robe and went downstairs in search of her husband.

A single lamp illuminated the sitting room. "John?" she asked. In the dim light, she saw him sitting in his chair, his body hunched. He did not move or respond.  
"John?" she asked again, louder this time.

"What?" he a start. "Sorry, I was woolgathering."

She walked to the settee and took a seat. "You were brooding."

"How could you tell?"

"Your posture."

"You know me too well." In the dim light, his face was pensive, almost frightened. "I'm, well… I…"

"Come and tell me what's wrong."

He sat down beside her on the settee and took her hand. "Anna, I'm afraid," he said softly. "I'm afraid I'm going to be like my father."

"Oh, John." He had once described his father as an unpleasant man, but he had not said anything further.

"I mean it," he said.

She could hear the anxiety in his voice. Through all of their trials, she had never heard that tone before.

"I never told you about my father, did I?" he asked.

"No, you didn't," she said. "I could tell it upset you to talk about him."

John took a ragged breath. "I think you should know." He paused; although he had become much more willing to share his feelings with her over the years, she guessed these memories would be hard to speak of. She caressed his hand to reassure him.

"He didn't beat me very often. For some reason, he just didn't like me. Nothing I did was good enough; he always found a reason to criticize me. My mother tried to make up for it, and she was wonderful," he said, smiling fondly. "But a boy's first hero is his father. I thought I was a failure because he thought I was a failure."

Was this where the feelings of unworthiness had come from, Anna wondered. Had those feelings first come from a man who who could not see the emotional damage he was doing to his son?

"He was always angry," John continued, in a whisper. "I was afraid of him when I was a boy." He swallowed hard. "Anna, I don't want my child to _ever_ be afraid of me. But… I have that same anger in me. I thought I'd put it behind me, but that anger came out when I was in prison. There were times when someone pushed me too far and I wanted to hurt them."

"John, you were an innocent man fighting for survival in a savage, cruel world. Anyone would have been angry."

He shook his head vigorously, his agitation evident to her.

"And him… I wanted to kill that animal. If I had gotten on that train to London, and I had found him, I would have killed him." He did not have to say Alex Green's name.

He had told her this before, and she had been overjoyed to find out he was innocent, and the reason he did not go to London. "But you didn't get on that train, did you?" she asked. "You remained in York to spare me from seeing the consequences of killing him. You thought of me, not of revenge."

John was still not convinced. "What if one day our child makes me angry, so angry that I…" He choked off the rest of the sentence, and buried his face in his hands.

"John, you are _not_ your father," she said. "You have your mother's kind nature, too. You care about people, and your loyalty is boundless."

She placed her hand on his chest. She could feel his heart pounding beneath. "I know your heart, John Bates. All you've ever shown me is that kind, gentle side." Even during their infrequent arguments, he had never lost his temper, and she had never felt a moment's fear or apprehension. "I know you'll show that same gentle side to our child."

John rubbed his forehead in frustration. "But, Anna, we can't be sure."

She thought for a moment, trying to think of a way to reassure her husband. "Dear one, after everything that's happened to me in my lifetime, do you think I would let you near me, or our child, if I thought there was any chance that we would be in danger?" To prove her point, she took his hand and placed it on her abdomen. By instinct, he began to caress the small bulge.

He looked deep in her eyes, and she was relieved to see him calming down."No, I don't think you would," he said. He sighed and scrubbed his face. "You must think me a fool."

"I do not think that at all. You're a father-to-be who got a case of nerves. I'm more than a little nervous, as well."

John looked at her, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "But you don't act like it."

Anna laughed, glad to see John's tone become lighter. "I'm plenty nervous."

She patted his hand. "We'll get through this like we do everything else. Together."

Anna held her arms out. "Come here," she said. John went into her arms, and she held him close. He was usually the one doing the comforting, it felt good to return the support.

He pulled back, and she saw a flash of embarrassment cross his face. "John, you don't always have to be the strong one. I won't think one ounce less of you if you show vulnerability to me. It means you trust me. I treasure that trust."  
"I trust you with my life, Anna."

_Epilogue_

After her bath, Anna emerged from the bathroom and heard John's voice. She smiled, knowing where he was. As Johnny was usually sleeping through the night, and he was quickly outgrowing the bassinet, a few days ago, they had moved him from the bassinet in their bedroom to the bedroom they had prepared for him with a full sized crib.

She peered into the room, her smile widening at the scene she found. John sat in the rocking chair, a gift from Lady Mary and Mr. Talbert. He held Johnny upright, his legs propped on John's leg, talking animatedly to him and blowing raspberries into the boy's hand. Johnny squealed and clapped his hands on his father's cheeks. John held Johnny close and began to sing softly in Gaelic. Anna recognized the song; John had said his mother had sung it to him when he was a boy.

John slowly rocked Johnny as he sang. He grinned when he saw her in the doorway. The boy had quieted, his body cradled in John's arms, his little hands clasped in John's shirt.

When the boy had been rambunctious in Anna's womb, John had sung the song close to her abdoman. It had always calmed Johnny down. She had never decided if it was the melody or John's deep, calm voice that did the trick.

She walked to him as he finished the song. Johnny was not quite asleep, but it would not be long. She leaned towards Johnny and gave the him a soft kiss on the cheek.

She watched as John kissed his son on his forehead.

"Want me to put him down?" Anna asked. John nodded, then handed him to Anna, who carefully placed him in his crib and tucked his blanket around him. "Good night, little one, we love you."

She thought back to the to the night John had agonized whether his temper would get the best of him; whether he would be a good father. John had shown no temper, no impatience at all, even when Johnny woke them in the middle of the night. He seemed to relish even the more unglamorous aspects of being a parent, and unlike many men, he wanted to be involved and help out any way he could. Best of all, he showed the same unconditional love to his son that he showed to her.

As they watched their son fall asleep, she nudged John, then leaned against his body. In response, he put his arm around her shoulders. "And you were worried about being a good father," she whispered.

He looked sheepish. "I certainly worked myself into a panic that night. Thank you for talking me down from the ledge."

"We got through everything, didn't we?" she asked.

He gave her one of the smiles he once reserved for only for her, now he included their son. It never failed to melt her heart.

"We did, my darling." John said. He motioned towards their son. "And look at us now."

She kissed his hand. "Come on Papa, let's let our son sleep."


End file.
